Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. ” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. . He hated horizons. Do you think that it makes for happiness to force oneself into the extravagant belief that love is the only thing in the world worth having, and to sacrifice for it independence, self-respect, one’s whole scheme of life. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. “Isn’t there a brother to kick him?” “Mere satisfaction,” reflected Ogilvy.
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