"But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. “You would be wise to loosen your purse-strings, Gianfrancesco. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. ” “It would suit me. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. E. These galleries were separated in the middle by iron grates. Besides, he was a Yale man.
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