The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. Stones and brickbats were showered on all sides, and Mr. Aware of his father's inflexibility of purpose, he set his wits to work to defeat the design. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity.
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