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A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME
I--THE CURE FOR LOVE
The excellent Mr. Morris was an Englishman, and he lived in the days of
Queen Victoria the Good. He was a prosperous and very sensible man; he
read the Times and went to church, and as he grew towards middle age
an expression of quiet contented contempt for all who were not as
himself settled on his face. He was one of those people who do
everything that is right and proper and sensible with inevitable
regularity. He always wore just the right and proper clothes, steering
the narrow way between the smart and the shabby, always subscribed to
the right charities, just the judicious compromise between ostentation
and meanness, and never failed to have his hair cut to exactly the
proper length.
Everything that it was right and proper for a man in his position to
possess, he possessed; and everything that it was not right and proper
for a man in his position to possess, he did not possess.
And among other right and proper possessions, this Mr. Morris had a wife
and children. They were the right sort of wife, and the right sort and
number of children, of course; nothing imaginative or highty-flighty
about any of them, so far as Mr. Morris could see; they wore perfectly
correct clothing, neither smart nor hygienic nor faddy in any way, but
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