She had never heard anything so unholy. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. Mr. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility.
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