I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. 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 think she might be up to something. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips.
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