Dr. King […] came in, & figured away to his own satisfaction before Mr. Garrick.
In 1928, on the verge of moving into his pseudo-English mansion on Long Island's North Shore, Cantor was in a state of reflective happiness.
The more I think about it, the weaker it looks.
It was a blessed little realm. I stopped often in the country towns – Donnybrook, Bridgetown, Busselton, Margaret River — to sit with a cup of coffee or browse through stacks of secondhand books or take a walk along a wooden pier or duney foreshore.
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