‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. You must have figured that out by now. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. I want my freedom. My servant. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles.
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