” “Blood of my heart!” whispered Capes, holding her close to him. Don’t be frightened, dear. The delay was only momentary. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face.
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