She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. Dollis Hill revisited 324 XII. "Good night!" "Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, "wait without. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome.
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