“I feared we might have a fog. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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