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“Take my advice,” he said hoarsely. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Turning now, and running down the terrace. Wood, in indignant surprise.
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