She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. 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. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea.
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