But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. God, Lucy, that’s the stuff people wear to Phys.
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