1 Or if she'd leave him alone, and let him arrange his life as he pleases.
2 Mrs. Peniston was one of the episodical persons who form the padding of life.
3 It was the last asset in their fortunes, the nucleus around which their life was to be rebuilt.
4 He responded joyfully that to do so was his mission in life, and asked what form the rescue was to take.
5 The dinginess of her present life threw into enchanting relief the existence to which she felt herself entitled.
6 She would be able to arrange her life as she pleased, to soar into that empyrean of security where creditors cannot penetrate.
7 To attempt to bring her into active relation with life was like tugging at a piece of furniture which has been screwed to the floor.
8 He liked the ease and glitter of the life, and the lustre conferred on him by being a member of this group of rich and conspicuous people.
9 She was beginning to have fits of angry rebellion against fate, when she longed to drop out of the race and make an independent life for herself.
10 Lily had no mind for the vagabond life of the poor relation, and to adapt herself to Mrs. Peniston she had, to some degree, to assume that lady's passive attitude.
11 They belonged to the vast group of human automata who go through life without neglecting to perform a single one of the gestures executed by the surrounding puppets.
12 It was difficult to define her beyond saying that she seemed to exist only as a hostess, not so much from any exaggerated instinct of hospitality as because she could not sustain life except in a crowd.
13 But dinginess is a quality which assumes all manner of disguises; and Lily soon found that it was as latent in the expensive routine of her aunt's life as in the makeshift existence of a continental pension.
14 To guard against such contingencies she frequented the more populous watering-places, where she installed herself impersonally in a hired house and looked on at life through the matting screen of her verandah.
15 There were moments when such scenes delighted Lily, when they gratified her sense of beauty and her craving for the external finish of life; there were others when they gave a sharper edge to the meagreness of her own opportunities.
16 As he watched her hand, polished as a bit of old ivory, with its slender pink nails, and the sapphire bracelet slipping over her wrist, he was struck with the irony of suggesting to her such a life as his cousin Gertrude Farish had chosen.
17 She had always been a looker-on at life, and her mind resembled one of those little mirrors which her Dutch ancestors were accustomed to affix to their upper windows, so that from the depths of an impenetrable domesticity they might see what was happening in the street.
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