She had to have him, her body was going crazy for the want of sex. His eyes never left her face. 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. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead.
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