Her tone was icy. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. Ah Cum explained. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably.
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