The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. “Thank you. “What do you mean?” she asked. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face.
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