I think not. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. “It—it—must come,” she faltered.
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