Dwight's more or less; besides a profound
satisfaction in accomplishing literary work that not one of them could do
to save their lives--all this has routed a good deal of my old bitterness
of spirit. I am not sorry that I had it and indulged it, however.
Discontent and resentment put spurs on the soul. Anything is better than
smugness,"
"It's made you different enough from these others, all right. Even
from Mrs. Dwight, who is different herself....I'd rather you'd stayed
discontented. The whole scheme's all wrong and you know it. You've suffered
from it. You should be the last to tolerate it. When they're jabbering away
about their ninny affairs they pay as little attention to you as they do to
me. They forget our existence. We don't belong, as they say. There isn't,
one of them except Mrs. Dwight that I wouldn't give my eye teeth to see
hanging out the wash or running a machine in a factory."'
Gora turned to him with a smile. At this time she was as nearly happy as
was possible for that insurgent too aspiring spirit.
"Nevertheless, they've made you over in a way--Oh, don't flame! I don't
mean your principles...other ways that won't hurt you in the least. You
cut your hair differently. You wear better shoes. You have your clothes
pressed--the suit you wear up here anyhow. You've reformed your speech
somewhat, and you know a good deal more about many things than you did
a few months ago.
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