” His fingers touched hers for a moment under the ledge of the box. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches.
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