Predictably, Charvill turned on him. She was so interested, and this was such a relief from the trudging anxiety of her search for work, that she went on for a whole week as if she was still living at home. “I’ll go. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. She cried out with the pain of it. Just now my best ones are all taken. 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. “It is nothing of any importance. I did not know what God had in mind then. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. “DEAR MR. ’ ‘Yes, and leave you to break in on your own. I don’t know if I express myself clearly. "Yes, your son, Madam. Then she realized that it was her business to let Manning talk and impose his own interpretations upon the situation so far as he was concerned.
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