It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. They were enormously pleased with one another; they found each other beyond measure better than they had expected, if only because of the want of substance in mere expectation. ‘I try to be. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. 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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