“We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone.
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