But one changes the style of one's clothes yearly. 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. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. He grunted, and his grip gave. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. Good night. His fingers closed upon her hand.
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