\" Michelle replied, and directed the subject back towards boys. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. I hardly see you anymore. CHAPTER XXIII. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects.
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