The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. You’re a piss-poor liar, John. “I wonder if many people HAVE thought things out? “Are we all just seizing hold of phrases and obeying moods? “It wasn’t so with old-fashioned people, they knew right from wrong; they had a clear-cut, religious faith that seemed to explain everything and give a rule for everything.
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