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"
It
is
.
This
country
must
swear
off
its
dirty
little
wars
.
The
CIA
has
been
at
the
root
of
every
dirty
little
war
America
has
fought
in
this
century
.
The
CIA
and
dollar
diplomacy
.
"
She
opened
her
book
and
began
to
read
.
The
No
SMOKING
sign
went
off
.
Hallorann
watched
the
receding
land
and
wondered
if
the
boy
was
all
right
.
He
had
developed
an
affectionate
feeling
for
that
boy
,
although
his
folks
hadn
’
t
seemed
all
that
much
.
He
hoped
to
God
they
were
watching
out
for
Danny
.
Jack
stood
in
the
dining
room
just
outside
the
batwing
doors
leading
into
the
Colorado
Lounge
,
his
head
cocked
,
listening
.
He
was
smiling
faintly
.
Around
him
,
he
could
hear
the
Overlook
Hotel
coming
to
life
.
It
was
hard
to
say
just
how
he
knew
,
but
he
guessed
it
wasn
’
t
greatly
different
from
the
perceptions
Danny
had
from
time
to
time
…
like
father
,
like
son
.
Wasn
’
t
that
how
it
was
popularly
expressed
?
It
wasn
’
t
a
perception
of
sight
or
sound
,
although
it
was
very
near
to
those
things
,
separated
from
those
senses
by
the
filmiest
of
perceptual
curtains
.
It
was
as
if
another
Overlook
now
lay
scant
inches
beyond
this
one
,
separated
from
the
real
world
(
if
there
is
such
a
thing
as
a
"
real
world
,
"
Jack
thought
)
but
gradually
coming
into
balance
with
it
.
He
was
reminded
of
the
3
-
D
movies
he
’
d
seen
as
a
kid
.
If
you
looked
at
-
the
screen
without
the
special
glasses
,
you
saw
a
double
image
-
the
sort
of
thing
he
was
feeling
now
.
But
when
you
put
the
glasses
on
,
it
made
sense
.
All
the
hotel
’
s
eras
were
together
now
,
all
but
this
current
one
,
the
Torrance
Era
.
And
this
would
be
together
with
the
rest
very
soon
now
.
That
was
good
.
That
was
very
good
.
He
could
almost
hear
the
self
-
important
ding
!
ding
!
of
the
silver
-
plated
bell
on
the
registration
desk
,
summoning
bellboys
to
the
front
as
men
in
the
fashionable
flannels
of
the
1920s
checked
in
and
men
in
fashionable
1940s
double
-
breasted
pinstripes
checked
out
.
There
would
be
three
nuns
sitting
in
front
of
the
fireplace
as
they
waited
for
the
check
-
out
line
to
thin
,
and
standing
behind
them
,
nattily
dressed
with
diamond
stickpins
holding
their
blueand
-
white
-
figured
ties
,
Charles
Grondin
and
Vito
Gienelli
discussed
profit
and
loss
,
life
and
death
.
There
were
a
dozen
trucks
in
the
loading
bays
out
back
,
some
laid
one
over
the
other
like
bad
time
exposures
.
In
the
east
-
wing
ballroom
,
a
dozen
different
business
conventions
were
going
on
at
the
same
time
within
temporal
centimeters
of
each
other
.
There
was
a
costume
ball
going
on
.
There
were
soirees
,
wedding
receptions
,
birthday
and
anniversary
parties
.
Men
talking
about
Neville
Chamberlain
and
the
Archduke
of
Austria
.
Music
.
Laughter
.
Drunkenness
.
Hysteria
.
Little
love
,
not
here
,
but
a
steady
undercurrent
of
sensuousness
.
And
he
could
almost
hear
all
of
them
together
,
drifting
through
the
hotel
and
making
a
graceful
cacophony
.
In
the
dining
room
where
he
stood
,
breakfast
,
lunch
,
and
dinner
for
seventy
years
were
all
being
served
simultaneously
just
behind
him
.
He
could
almost
…
no
,
strike
the
almost
.
He
could
hear
them
,
faintly
as
yet
,
but
clearly
-
the
way
one
can
hear
thunder
miles
off
on
a
hot
summer
’
s
day
.
He
could
hear
all
of
them
,
the
beautiful
strangers
.
He
was
becoming
aware
of
them
as
they
must
have
been
aware
of
him
from
the
very
start
.
