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Mr. She continued to fan herself. ” John broke in, “Wow, Lucy, I didn’t know that you 88 were orphaned. He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. Here we go, thought Gerald. But this modern miasma—” Mr. ‘Very wise,’ commented Gerald.
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