His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. 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. Wood from pressing his suit long ago. “Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. He seemed to her indistinguishably about her father’s age. ” Ogilvy reflected. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. She followed the official back into his room.
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