"I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Twenty-one, twenty-two. She indicated the captain who had retired behind the sofa. . The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. ” Capes let his oar smack on the water. She would end alone.
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