" "Oh! do not say so," replied his wretched parent. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. I never see them, they never even call. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that he had brought no lunch.
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