“Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. He was not in love with her en désespoir which, he said, was necessary if a man would marry without getting a dowry from his wife. He kissed her fingers and grinned. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief.
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