The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. " "If he had only been my father!—McClintock!" "God didn't standardize human beings, Ruth; no grain of wheat is like another. ’ She stopped, for Jack was feebly laughing. Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. I will take her away and make her serve me as my wife.
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