Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision.
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