But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. "Remember!" cried Quilt, as he forced the captive along. ' That's your signal. I'm not interested in him. No— no, it must never be. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat.
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