’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. She was trembling a little. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. Do so; and I am yours as heretofore. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. "Close the doors below! Loose the dogs! Curses! they don't hear me! I'll ring the alarm-bell. He doesn’t know where she is, and I told him he’d have to apply to Remenham’s lawyers if he wanted anything to do with this place.
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