What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights. Had you died, I should have fully obeyed the instructions on that envelope. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year.
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