It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. Wood and the waterman, meanwhile, proceeded in the direction of St. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. I spoke a thought aloud. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause.
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