“I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. ” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. I was the last on board. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing.
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