You understand me, Charcoal. But as the students sat about Miss Garvice’s tea-pot and drank tea or smoked cigarettes, the talk got away from Capes. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Upon this topic Capes was heavy and conscientious, but that seemed to her to be just exactly what he ought to be. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. “It will spoil your life.
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