"I'm never satisfied with a first attempt. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. . 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. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow.
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