There’s sure to be a place somewhere. If I am to have no other opportunity I will speak before them. ” John’s father, Thomas, strode into the front hall at that moment in his golf clothes. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. He was angry. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support.
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