"I do," replied Kneebone. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. She heard Gianfrancesco arguing with Sebastianus.
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