He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. It was Doctor Ralph, formerly the partner of Doctor Stickell in the Avenue, and now with a thriving practice of his own in Wamblesmith. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. His glasses were gone. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. " "When you heard what was going on, why didn't you send for me?" "I didn't know it was going on. It was at lunch when McClintock announced that in the mailpouch he had found a letter addressed to Howard Taber, care of Donald McClintock and so-forth.
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