She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. She wanted to be alone. "Dawn Pearl!… come here!" She moved to the side of the bed. Where is he?" "Here," answered Jack. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. "Always remember the fact. There was some one there. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. This—all this swamps them.
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