“Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. He knew it absolutely, as if he had the check in his hand. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. The reward is mine. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly.
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