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. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts.
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