‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Capes scored back with an uncompromising vigor that was his way of complimenting her intelligence. Another day of nonsuccess would mean many disagreeable things. “Of course I will,” he answered. But she was disappointed. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed.
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