The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. The perception of him flooded her being. She asked no further questions for the moment. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end.
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