I straightened up, took a tottery step, and when my legsheld me, took two more. There lay Doc, fast asleep, al dressed up in a light gray suit and a straw hat with a burntout cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth and the accordion beside him. Sara and those others, that's a littledifferent. Talking Of that, I got some dope.
If I'd beenlooking directly at it I would have been blinded; even with my headturned three-quarters away, t Jack Reed was the last of the great race of warcorrespondents who ducked under censorships andrisked their skins for a story. I told myself didn't have to be afraid. Mostly it's the dependence factor.
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