“I don’t think she will,” she said. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Goopes disconcerted the Alderman a little by abruptly challenging the roguish-looking young man in the orange tie (who, it seemed, was the assistant editor of New Ideas) upon a critique of Nietzsche and Tolstoy that had appeared in his paper, in which doubts had been cast upon the perfect sincerity of the latter. On the way he confessed. "I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked. Come along home, Ruth. When she was quite sure that he was gone she took her sister’s note from the mantelpiece and slowly broke the seal. Pause.
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