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. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. My whole life shall be devoted to you, beloved girl. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers.
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