‘It is not possible. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. I did think it could be done. Buck up. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. . . Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning.
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