On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers.
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