"Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. I want to make you feel that here is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. He was a stranger. ‘Imbecile.
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