In a cafe mezzanine, Clarence Darrow is seated at a table. Brion and I introduce ourselves. Darrow looks very trim and youngish. A well-kept forty-five, in a gray suit.Darrow was a belt-and-braces atheist, said already he is losing his memory a piece at a time. "When I die," he says, "I won't be any more aware of my approaching extinction than an old log rotting in the woods." Well,speak for yourself, Clarence.
Any case, he is looking good. I notice that his thin mouth is almost at the end of his chin.
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