It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention. She felt that with Capes near to her she would be content always to go on loving. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall.
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