What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. CHAPTER II. " "Mr. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. 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. Mrs. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ” “There was a time when girls didn’t get these extravagant ideas.
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