Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. CHAPTER VII. Good night!" "Well, if you won't be persuaded, and must have a boat, Owen," observed the landlord, "there's a waterman asleep on that bench will help you to as tidy a craft as any on the Thames. That’s why I wanted your weapons. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol.
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