Page "fiction" Paragraph 549
from
Brown Corpus
From the saddlebags, hung on a Hitchcock chair, David took out a good English razor, a present from John Hunter.
He found tepid water in a pitcher and a last bit of soap, and he lathered his face and stood stropping the razor on his broad leather belt, its buckle held firm by a knob of the bedpost.
He hoped he was free of self-deception.
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