At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one
won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone?
Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young,
and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. She had been forced to buy herself
that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’
had yielded very disappointingly. There are pretty
much three types, those that accept, and those who run
away, and those who fight. “I know that our social order is dreadful
enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. “Dear old daddy!” she said, and was
amazed to find herself shedding tears. I can't invent; the thing won't come. "
"My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and
I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. “What is a
ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 05-07-2024 01:47:02