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” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. "Yes—what do you mean, Ma'am?" added Jack, staggering after her. “Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin.
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