‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me.
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