At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. From thoughts of fame to thoughts of mere bread and butter! It seemed to Spurlock that he had tumbled off the edge of Somewhere into the abyss of Nowhere. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. “Julian, please, let’s go to your place. “Guineas, of course,” Mr. You know—if you want freedom.
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