“You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. One cannot trust any man at all. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. The place for reading.
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