At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. He kept that, but the rest. His voice now had lost its ironies. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. ‘You see, it is that I have a plan to marry an Englishman.
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