We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. 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. ’ Before the major could verify this, the lady reappeared.
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