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The Price She Paid by David Graham Phillips
page 10 of 465 (02%)
world, Mildred Gower at twenty-three still retained
something of these dream flowers sown in the soil of
her naturally good mind by some book or play or perhaps
by some casually read and soon forgotten article
in magazine or newspaper. We have the habit of
thinking only weeds produce seeds that penetrate and
prosper everywhere and anywhere. The truth is that
fine plants of all kinds, vegetable, fruit, and flower of
rarest color and perfume, have this same hardiness and
fecundity. Pull away at the weeds in your garden
for a while, and see if this is not so. Though you may
plant nothing, you will be amazed at the results if you
but clear a little space of its weeds--which you have
been planting and cultivating.

Mildred--woman fashion--regarded it as a
reproach upon her that she had not yet succeeded in
making the marriage everyone, including herself, predicted
for her and expected of her. On the contrary, it was
the most savage indictment possible of the marriageable
and marrying men who had met her--of their
stupidity, of their short-sighted and mean-souled
calculation, of their lack of courage--the courage to
take what they, as men of flesh and blood wanted,
instead of what their snobbishness ordered. And if
Stanley Baird, the nearest to a flesh-and-blood man of
any who had known her, had not been so profoundly
afraid of his fashionable mother and of his sister, the
Countess of Waring-- But he was profoundly afraid
of them; so, it is idle to speculate about him.
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