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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. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. I want you to be my wife. ’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding.
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