‘I recall my father speaking of you as a Remenham. "Quick. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses.
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