” “Clear out?” cried Hetty. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. My will is executed, and placed in safe custody. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon.
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