Well, it had to happen somewhen. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here into Park Lane, or one of the Squares. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. "You forget that you promised me a kiss the last time you were here. But for me it doesn’t matter. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. The Widgetts talked with a remarkable absence of external coverings; the Palsworthys found all the meanings of life on its surfaces.
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