‘Here we go again. . And empty. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. Perhaps you will meet him someday.
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