“I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. He felt the first sting of the whip. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room.
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