I know my son's voice too well. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. We both understood that. ” At the sight of her tears his expression changed to a mingling of triumph and concern. He was asleep. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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