Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. But I don’t suppose you can understand. She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams.
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