He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. “What, you don’t think that you can afford it? Lucy, with your musical talent, you’ll get a full ride. That night in Paris I saw on the bills ‘Fatal Motor Accidents. We’re hedged about with discretions— and all this furniture—and successes! We are successful at last! Successful! But the mountains, dear! We won’t forget the mountains, dear, ever.
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