"Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. . A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. All through the night an entirely impossible and monumental Capes confronted her, and she argued with him about men and women. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. " As he spoke, a smile crossed Sheppard's countenance. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray.
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