Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. CHAPTER XXIV. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. 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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