Chapter Ten: March 4, 1916
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On Tuesday, I walked into the typist room ready for work. As I approached the rear of the room, however, I noticed all my fellow employees huddled around a table, laughing.
When my friend Basil Featherstone saw me, he cleared his throat loudly, and the chortling stopped. I approached the table and saw the object of all this levity.
It was a piece of paper…
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