Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Ruth read: DEAR SIR: "We are delighted to accept these four stories, particularly 'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. Give me my pistol and my dagger.
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