Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck.
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