And then she fell into a musing about Capes. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered.
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