“An hour,” said the Devil, “is not very long. But we know it is
long enough to suffer in, and go mad in, and live in, and be happy
in. And the world contains a great many hours. Now I am leaving
you. It is likely that I may never come again, and it is likely
that I may come again.”
It all vanished. I still sat by my window in the gloom. “It is
dreary,” I said.
But yes. The world contains a great many hours.
April 4.