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. “I have never yet met a man whose intellect I could respect. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. ” Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown moustache and restless grey eyes. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent.
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