She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed. She was obliged to concede that his features were pleasing, his strength and vitality attractive; and there was no denying how well this uniform of a militia suited his figure, which was lean and powerful both.
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