Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify.
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