“The front door stood open behind him, admitting the soft air to the house through a screen door; the street was streaming with golden sunset light and patterned along its curbstones with the shadows of oak and maple trees. He looked upon this prospect with the feeling that he had not seen it in some time, though it lay outside his windows every evening. He looked at his neighbors’ houses, and listened to the voices drifting from other yards and front-porches, and wondered just how many things h...ad been passing him by unawares. The events of the past seven days had done a good deal to jar him from the absent concentration he had lived in so long, and he was still looking round him with an air of just having woken. He still had not outlived the sensation of that night a week ago, when at past eleven o’clock he had been confronted in his library by the apparition of his daughter, wearing a boy’s sweater crookedly over a bedraggled party dress, accompanied by a strange boy and pouring out a tensely stammering confession—of what he could not grasp at first; he could not adjust that quickly to the notion that she had been abroad at night rather than safely in bed upstairs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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