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. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. But even with that furniture it remained extremely vague, the possible good and the possible evil as well! The possible evil! “I’ll go,” said Ann Veronica for the hundredth time. ‘Ah, the tragedy. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. E. Goodbye. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife.
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