My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. Ruth read: DEAR SIR: "We are delighted to accept these four stories, particularly 'The Man Who Could Not Go Home.
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