One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. ” The conversation hung. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. ” The man smiled at him. They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.
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