\"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. "Where?" she cried. C. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. 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.
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