In his dark cellar, down an alley by the side of the Grand Mosque in the Metamar, he had
sat from early morning until sunset, year in year out, through thirty years on his rush-covered
floor, among successive generations of his boys;...
These well-beloved customs have been establishing themselves year by year more firmly in
undergraduate hearts, but it is not always possible to trace them to their ”first time.”
In spite of the thirty-odd guests, people of very moderate incomes who knew the place and
had come here year after year, I was as much alone as if I had been the only sojourner.
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