She addressed Capes as though she spoke to him alone. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. She may be an infuriating little devil, but she is far from stupid.
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