![]() ![]() ![]() Mohamet had not rushed to meet the mountain. “Mark McPherson!” I exclaimed, and then, assuming the air of one who might meet Mussolini without trepidation, I bade Roberto ask Mr. Its electric vibrations had barely ceased when Roberto, my Filipino manservant, came to tell me that Mr. My grief at her sudden and violent death found consolation in the thought that my friend, had she lived to a ripe old age, would have passed into oblivion, whereas, the violence of her passing and the genius of her admirer gave her a fair chance at immortality. Now I had gathered strength for the writing of Laura’s epitaph. The day just past, devoted to shock and misery, had stripped me of sorrow. Sitting at my desk, pen in hand, I treasured the sense that, among those millions, only I, Waldo Lydecker, was up and doing. Those millions of New Yorkers who, by need or preference, remain in town over a summer week end had been crushed spiritless by humidity. ![]()
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