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. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs.
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