She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. 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. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support.
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