These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. God knows how you did it. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. S. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. Besides, those things are deadly. Not like my father.
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