The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. "Ever play one of these machines?" "Yes. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion.
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