For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. "What for?" demanded Wood. “Besides, it is not so. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. And listen, John. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness.
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