I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. “Please make yourselves comfortable while I see to the coffee. ” He said. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack.
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