Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Every suggestion involved goggles, and trips to the cellar, where he kept the river

"Come, let us wet our whistles in the waters of destiny", cried Norwood, raising his glass. There was nothing in the glass, however, so the toast may not count. And if it does not count, then perhaps we are still at home, and this has all been a most unwelcome dream?

I thought not.


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