She had never heard anything so unholy. "You poor child!" said Prudence. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual.
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