Mrs. 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 moaned as his lips caressed her neck, almost to where the dress met her shoulder. I do not care, but only that you will leave my affairs to me. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care.
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