“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
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