The Storm. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. . Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall.
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