It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. ” “I wonder,” said Mr. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. " "Don't mind us, Ma'am," said Mr.
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