Plote was sleeping or deaf. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. ‘I thought as how it couldn’t do no harm, and as it turns out, it done me a bit of good. The door to the room in question was closed. " "What has he done?" "What did he have to drink over here last night?" "Not even water. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit.
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