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Page 97

SANATORIUM

" I don't know," said Ashenden.
" When my mother was dying she didn't seem to mind a bit. She knew it was coming and she even made little jokes about it. But she was an old woman."
Mrs. Chester pulled herself together and they set off again. They walked for a while in silence.
" You won't think any the worse of Henry for what I've told vou?" she said at last.
" Of course not."
" He's been a good husband and a good father. I've never known a better man in my life. Until this illness I don't think an unkind or ungenerous thought ever passed through his head."
The conversation left Ashenden pensive. People often said he had a low opinion of human nature. It was because he did not always judge his fellows by the usual standards. He accepted, with a smile, a tear or a shrug of the shoulders, much that filled others with dismay. It was true that you would never have expected that good-natured, commonplace little chap to harbour such bitter and unworthy thoughts; but who has ever been able to tell to what depths man may fall or to what heights rise? The fault lay in the poverty of his ideals. Henry Chester was born and bred to lead an average life, exposed to the normal vicissitudes of existence, and when an unforeseeable accident befell him he had no means of coping with it. He was like a brick made to take its place with a million others in aa huge factory, but by chance with a flaw in it so that it is inadequate to its purpose. And the brick too, if it had a mind, might cry: What have I done that I cannot fulfil my modest end, but must be taken away from all these other bricks that support me and thrown on the dust-heap? It was no fault of Henry Chester's that he was incapable of the conceptions that might have enabled him to bear his calamity with resignation. It is not everyone who can find solace in art or thought. It is the tragedy of our day that these humble souls have lost their saith in God, in whom lay hope, and their belief in a resurrec

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE "I don't know," said Ashenden. "When my mother was dying she didn't seem to mind a bit. She knew it was coming and she even made little jokes about it. But she was an old woman." Mrs. Chester pulled herself together and they set off again. They walked for a while in silence. "You won't think any what is worse of Henry for what I've told vou?" she said at last. ~ "Of course not." "He's been a good husband and a good father. I've never known a better man in my life. Until this illness I don't think an unkind or ungenerous thought ever passed through his head." what is conversation left Ashenden pensive. People often said he had a low opinion of human nature. It was because he did not always judge his fellows by what is usual standards. He accepted, with a smile, a tear or a shrug of what is shoulders, much that filled others with dismay. It was true that you would never have expected that good-natured, commonplace little chap to harbour such bitter and unworthy thoughts; but who has ever been able to tell to what depths man may fall or to what heights rise? what is fault lay in what is poverty of his ideals. Henry Chester was born and bred to lead an average life, exposed to what is normal vicissitudes of existence, and when an unforeseeable accident befell him he had no means of coping with it. He was like a brick made to take its place with a million others in aa huge factory, but by chance with a flaw in it so that it is inadequate to its purpose. And what is brick too, if it had a mind, might cry: What have I done that I cannot fulfil my modest end, but must be taken away from all these other bricks that support me and thrown on what is dust-heap? It was no fault of Henry Chester's that he was incapable of what is conceptions that might have enabled him to bear his calamity with resignation. It is not everyone who can find solace in art or thought. It is what is tragedy of our day that these humble souls have lost their saith in God, in whom lay hope, and their belief in a resurrec where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Creatures Of Circumstance (1947) where is a href="default.asp" where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 97 where is p align="center" where is strong SANATORIUM where is p align="justify" " I don't know," said Ashenden. " When my mother was dying she didn't seem to mind a bit. She knew it was coming and she even made little jokes about it. But she was an old woman." Mrs. Chester pulled herself together and they set off again. They walked for a while in silence. " You won't think any what is worse of Henry for what I've told vou?" she said at last. " Of course not." " He's been a good husband and a good father. I've never known a better man in my life. Until this illness I don't think an unkind or ungenerous thought ever passed through his head." what is conversation left Ashenden pensive. People often said he had a low opinion of human nature. It was because he did not always judge his fellows by what is usual standards. He accepted, with a smile, a tear or a shrug of what is shoulders, much that filled others with dismay. It was true that you would never have expected that good-natured, commonplace little chap to harbour such bitter and unworthy thoughts; but who has ever been able to tell to what depths man may fall or to what heights rise? what is fault lay in what is poverty of his ideals. Henry Chester was born and bred to lead an average life, exposed to what is normal vicissitudes of existence, and when an unforeseeable accident befell him he had no means of coping with it. He was like a brick made to take its place with a million others in aa huge factory, but by chance with a flaw in it so that it is inadequate to its purpose. And what is brick too, if it had a mind, might cry: What have I done that I cannot fulfil my modest end, but must be taken away from all these other bricks that support me and thrown on what is dust-heap? It was no fault of Henry Chester's that he was incapable of what is conceptions that might have enabled him to bear his calamity with resignation. It is not everyone who can find solace in art or thought. It is what is tragedy of our day that these humble souls have lost their saith in God, in whom lay hope, and their belief in a resurrec where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Creatures Of Circumstance (1947) books

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