The Night-Cellar XVIII. “I doubted my luck, at least. She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. ’ She shrugged fatalistically. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. I shall now be able to test my skill. .
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