Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. They are born idiots, incurably insane. We are in love. 4. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. “I want to find an address. We may be stopped.
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