She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. CHAPTER XXIII. . \" Michelle said in a bitter voice. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care. Within ten minutes he had read much more than had greeted his eye.
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