Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Majorities, right or wrong, dare not revolt. ” “Very romantic.
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