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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Magnificent Ambersons"

He had not slept at all, the night before, and he had eaten
nothing since the preceding day at lunch, but he felt neither
drowsiness nor hunger. His set determination filled him, kept him but
too wide awake, and his gaze at the grayness beyond the window was
wide--eyed and bitter.
Darkness had closed in when there was a step in the room behind him.
Then someone knelt beside the chair, two arms went round him with
infinite compassion, a gentle head rested against his shoulder, and
there came the faint scent as of apple-blossoms far away.
"You mustn't be troubled, darling," his mother whispered.


Chapter XXVI

George choked. For an instant he was on the point of breaking down,
but he commanded himself, bravely dismissing the self-pity roused by
her compassion. "How can I help but be?" he said.
"No, no." She soothed him. "You mustn't. You mustn't be troubled,
no matter what happens."
"That's easy enough to say!" he protested; and he moved as if to rise.
"Just let's stay like this a little while, dear.


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