Today, as I walked in the city, an expensive car hove into view and stopped. It had been held up by people in a traffic-jam. Inside the car sat, at the wheel, a woman dressed for the London shops who was laughing whole-heartedly at something her children had said - so it appeared - while darting a quick safety glance at a mirror on her door; and behind her, a boy who rested his forearms on the back of her seat, cupped his mouth secretively to her ear and whispered something; and another boy who sat next to his brother bent over a toy soldier; and there was a girl of around fifteen in a bright yellow sweater, already being looked-at even here in this traffic yet pretending not to notice, and she raised her arm above her head as if it were a baton, causing her brother to shrink back in his seat and laugh while she laughed with him.
The car drove out of my sight. But not before I had decided, after only little thought, that I would very much like to be a member of that family.
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