Wood uttered something like an imprecation. But that bridge was more remarkable than any the metropolis now possesses. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. When he returned, it was always the same. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights.
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