Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. He paid the cab, and turned to follow her. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. He had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica. The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. About this conception of ownership he perceived and desired a certain sentimental glamour, he liked everything properly dressed, but it remained ownership. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit.
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