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. Until the age of five she adored him. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. She wished he could smoke and dull his nerves a little. There’s nothing a girl can do that isn’t sweated to the bone.
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