A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. He wanted her named Mary. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things.
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