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Chapter 1

           Andhewouldgotopicturegalleriestheysaid,andhewouldaskone,didonelikehistie?Godknows,saidRose,onedidnot.

           Disappearingasstealthilyasstagsfromthedinner-tabledirectlythemealwasover,theeightsonsanddaughtersofMr.andMrs.Ramsaysoughttheirbedrooms,theirfastnessinahousewheretherewasnootherprivacytodebateanything,everything;Tansley’stie;thepassingoftheReformBill;seabirdsandbutterflies;people;whilethesunpouredintothoseattics,whichaplankaloneseparatedfromeachothersothateveryfootstepcouldbeplainlyheardandtheSwissgirlsobbingforherfatherwhowasdyingofcancerinavalleyoftheGrisons,andlitupbats,flannels,strawhats,ink-pots,paint-pots,beetles,andtheskullsofsmallbirds,whileitdrewfromthelongfrilledstripsofseaweedpinnedtothewallasmellofsaltandweeds,whichwasinthetowelstoo,grittywithsandfrombathing.

           Strife,divisions,differenceofopinion,prejudicestwistedintotheveryfibreofbeing,oh,thattheyshouldbeginsoearly,Mrs.Ramsaydeplored.Theyweresocritical,herchildren.Theytalkedsuchnonsense.Shewentfromthedining-room,holdingJamesbythehand,sincehewouldnotgowiththeothers.Itseemedtohersuchnonsenseinventingdifferences,whenpeople,heavenknows,weredifferentenoughwithoutthat.Therealdifferences,shethought,standingbythedrawing-roomwindow,areenough,quiteenough.

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