The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “Sometimes it is not bad. 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.
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