"All's over," muttered Jonathan. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. " The Wastrel rushed. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions.
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