Thought she was a nun at first. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. It’s time she knew. “In any case you will never receive any different sort of answer from me.
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