I'll talk to her in the morning, but she won't understand what I'm driving at. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best.
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