“But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. 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. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. The sight o' your 'andsome phiz allys does me good. They would be partners only in loneliness.
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