" "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. 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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