She made up her
mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. 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. “Really? Like
37
who?”
“Corinne Carver, for one. Walpole's
order to that effect—but not before. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should
perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress,
stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be
secured and delivered into the hands of justice. Daughters
were in the air that day. "
"No. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her.
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