Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. ” Anna’s demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant.
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