“You silly fool,” he said. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. “There is my aunt,” she said. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather.
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