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Books!
She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from
heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. She pushed. “I am going to ask for
your forgiveness. Father-worshipping sons are abnormal—
and they’re no good. Her husband finally relented. It is useless to trace
out her miserable career; though I can easily do so if you require it. ”
True summer descended like a sticky fever upon
August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that
seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on
her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of
determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?"
"I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting
from his grasp. There was some one there. "
"Well, imagination beats me!"
"It's something Ruth saw. What isn’t
a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and
go!”
“Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 07-07-2024 08:28:13