I’m a little tired. ’ ‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald. "Good-bye, Mac. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. After all, old P. He tired of his popcorn and placed it under his seat. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble.
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