What I Heard
ACT ONE The coffee house was on MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village, and it smelled of roasted beans and damp wool. Edward Hayes sat in the corner with a cup of black coffee he was not drinking and a man at the next table who was not a stranger but was about to become the most important person he had ever met. The man was bald and middle-aged and he had the kind of face that suggested a long...
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