She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. A sob was strangled in her throat. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. ” His voice rose and fell amidst the music and the singing of Tristan and King Mark, like a voice heard in a badly connected telephone. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position.
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