A men, I, A James Randolph Stone, of theB orough of Manhattan, in the City of New York, being of sound and disposing mind the stern, cold voice droned on, never rising nor falling, as though the matter of his dictation were of no interest to himself nor to any other human being in this sad and disillusioned old world. The pretty, fluffy young stenographer sitting beside the desk seemed, from long experience of law work, as uninterested as the old man.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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