He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. ’ ‘She will have taken him with her. 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. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. Will you take it in to him?” The young man smiled in a superior manner. Well, let him be honest. She put her head out of the window. ‘Talk to me another time. His blood would be sweet with it. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. It is like a second honeymoon.
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