They must be for your father. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. She could feel her face turning beet red.
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