As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. 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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