He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. There must be something, one feels, in ideas that achieve persistently a successful resurrection. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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