‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. “Lucy. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. 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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