She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. They went to the Zoological Gardens together one Saturday to see for themselves a point of morphological interest about the toucan’s bill—that friendly and entertaining bird—and they spent the rest of the afternoon walking about and elaborating in general terms this theme and the superiority of intellectual fellowship to all merely passionate relationships. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon.
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