The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. . He has got Blueskin with him. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. She has already forgotten it. Both ladies were on easy and friendly terms with all that was best in Morningside Park society; they had an afternoon once a month that was quite well attended, they sometimes gave musical evenings, they dined out and gave a finish to people’s dinners, they had a full-sized croquet lawn and tennis beyond, and understood the art of bringing people together. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. ‘Let me tell you,’ went on the nun severely, ‘it would have been better for you if you had taken the veil. This was in Texas. And, for a man who'll never see sixty again, he's in excellent preservation, I assure you.
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