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Updated: May 19, 2025
We have merely lost it for a moment. Which way shall we turn? And so at last to the little Thing through which the whole world whispers to me on my desk, to the mighty railways that beckon past my door, to the airships that cannot be stilled, and to the rolling mills that will not be silenced, I turn at last! I turn to the Machines Themselves. Half-singing and half-cursing, I have faced them.
While Tausig insisted and explained and expostulated and at last walked out with the Sergeant giving me a queer last look that was half-cursing, half-placating I stood chatting sweetly with the woman who had searched me. I didn't know just how far I might go with her. She knew the paper wasn't on me, and I could see she was disposed to believe I was as nice as she'd have liked me to be.
My heart fell; why it had ever risen to such a pitch of hope I cannot tell; and half-cursing myself for a fool, in thus wildly thrusting my head into a squabble, I turned back and shut the door, saying "A very pleasant room, ma'am, but a leetle too crowded." Before she could answer, the opposite door opened; and a face appeared unwashed, unshaven, shrunken to a skeleton.
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