“What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. Only the next of kin. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. The next door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that direction, instinctively afraid.
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