They want some fun, and there isn't any. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. And from that they came back by way of the Kreutzer Sonata and Resurrection to Tolstoy again. A medley of motives warred in her, and it was certainly not one of the least of these that she knew herself to be passionately in love with Capes; at moments she had a giddy intimation that he was beginning to feel keenly interested in her. Then a surge of rage welled up. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well.
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