He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. “She contrives somehow to strike the personal note in an amazing manner. . “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it.
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