Gerald liked her enormously. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. Wait, though. She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. This costume, though somewhat extravagant, displayed his slight, but perfectly-proportioned figure to the greatest advantage. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her. The doctor would never betray him. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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