Boek
Olney got back to Boston about the middle of July and found himself in thesocial solitude which the summer makes more noticeable in that city than in anyother. The business the hard work of life was going on galloping on as italways does in America but the pleasure of life which he used to be part ofas a younger man was taking a rest or if not a rest then certainly an outingat the seashore. He met no one he knew and he continued his foreign travelsin his native place after an absence so long that it made everything once sofamiliar bewilderingly strange. «
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