If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded.
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