“I couldn’t help it. CHAPTER IX. ” Part 9 “All sorts of things we’re going to do,” said Capes; “all sorts of times we’re going to have. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. Martha was quite right. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing.
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