Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. His name is John. Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. You are the one person I can understand and feel—feel right with. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. He said the place had gone to wrack. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. I am sure. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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