There was no mistaking his intentions this time. The Night-Cellar. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. It was as though he were personally aggrieved.
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