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Then, under all the blasphemy, the talk about wohts, there was one instinct common to all, one love, one hidden purity And the keyword to those depths was "home"

"Home," he said one day to Lily Cardew "Mostly it's the home they've left, and maybe they didn't think so much of it then But they do now And if it isn't that, it's the home they want to have sos he said, and if she had not been grave he would not have gone on "You know," he continued, "there's irl some place All this talk about the nation, now--" He settled hie of the pine table where old Anthony Cardew's granddaughter had been figuring up her week's accounts, and lighted his pipe, "the nation's too big for us to understand But what is the nation, but a bunch of homes?"

"Willy dear," said Lily Cardew, "did you take anythis week?"

"Dollar sixty-five for lard," replied Willy dear "As I was saying, we've got to think of this country in terracious!" said Lily, "I don't live in a palace Get my pocket-book, will you? I'm out three dollars soures over again Go on and talk, Willy I love hearing you"

"Not palaces like yours," repeated Mr Ca houses, the homes of the plain people The middle class, Miss Cardew My class The people who never say anything, but are squeezed between capital, represented by your grandfather, with its parasites, represented by you, and--"

"You represent the people who never say anything," observed the slightly flushed parasite of capital, "about as adequately as I represent the idle rich"

Yet not even old Anthony could have resented the actual relationship between the hundreds of men, was as without sex consciousness as a child Even then her fla interest was in the private soldiers The officers were able to amuse thehboys she loved and anized her little entertains, when the field range in the kitchen was cold, and her blistered fingers stu camp piano