Black rainy clouds hung low over Philadelphia; Sunday afternoon was one long twilight that deepened steadily into gloomy night. In the gathering dusk, over the city's brick-paved streets jounced cabs from the three-day-old airport, from the dismal cavern of old Broad Street Station. Packed in the cabs were thousands of men whose minds were as wind-tossed and gloomy as the night.
They were men of all sorts: lean and broad of beam; men of integrity and men like rats; obscure men and famous; of fixed prejudices, and fixed ideals. They filled Philadelphia...
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