CHAPTER XVII. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. . She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. For a moment she remained silent. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams.
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