CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. “In that laboratory one gets to disregard these passions,” began Capes. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. This is a good piano. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. " "It is, indeed," replied Mrs. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire.
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