People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. She stared. She did not resist him, she could not. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. She has already forgotten it. Living’s just material. Wood; "here's a pretty to-do about nothing. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people.
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