END OF THE FIRST EPOCH. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. “I’m sorry. He’s been 274 lookin’ a little down lately. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point.
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