Explore "Good-bye, Mr. Chips" by James Hilton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
And there was always in his mind that spring day in ninety-eight when he had paced through Brookfield village as in some horrifying nightmare, half struggling to escape into an outside world where the sun still shone and where everything had happened differently. Young Faulkner had met him there in the lane outside the School. "Please, sir, may I have the afternoon off? My people are coming up."
-"Eh? What's that? Oh yes, yes. ."