“Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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