Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. But it was extraordinary what seemingly irrelevant things could restore her to the thought of Capes again. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child.
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