Ann Veronica decided she would have to go on with Capes another day, and, looking up, discovered him sitting on a stool with his hands in his pockets and his head a little on one side, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. “I can say no more. Lady Trafford, supposed to be childless, broken in health and spirits, frail both in mind and body, is not likely to make another marriage.
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