Journey's End. The theatre's ways are sometimes stranger than its plots. Some months ago the Kingston Rowing Club, a London suburban organization, found the Thames too cold for paddling and decided to put on a play by way of diversion. The club's personnel is wholly masculine, so something special had to be written for the occasion. The members turned to R. C. Sherriff, one of their number, who had had "experience" in the Surrey Amateur Dramatic Society.
Sherriff, 32, dark, slender, taciturn, was an insurance broker. He knew little of playwriting but he said...
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