She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. I know all. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. . Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. This was in Tennessee.
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