A wedding procession turned the corner. ” “I don’t understand. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. ” She came closer. ” “Then there is also,” Anna remarked, “a Montague Hill who is very much alive.
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