His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. “Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. The great heart of the world beats only where men and women are gathered together. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen.
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