“Smirched!. Mr. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other. ’ She tossed her head. . He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend.
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