I have very few friends in Paris. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. . She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you.
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