Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Free! All the fine ecstasy, without the numbing terror. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. "Intruding!" echoed Mrs. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige.
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