. 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. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. “Let me get you some water, Annabel.
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