She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. 1.
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