. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. ” “And that, I suppose,” he said, waving his stick towards Mr.
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