Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again. Besides, I have my doubts that he is so very sick. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. 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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