My very sentences stumble and give way. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. “So you come from Anna, do you?” she remarked. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. Capes—the ‘Capes crave,’ they would call it in America. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. ’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. “I shall come back, if at all, a new man. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. And then she would find work.
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