The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. "You have forgotten your knife, Mr. .
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