Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He made this simple classification of a large and various sex to the exclusion of all intermediate kinds; he held that the two classes had to be kept apart even in thought and remote from one another. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage.
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