Let him be sure. His tongue was hot. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. She had agonized over it for weeks. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. And, turning at the touch, he perceived Sheppard's glance fixed meaningly upon him. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel.
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