Chuck

Did you say browse again?

I think I did.

The Deep Drowse.

What is my deal?

I don't know.

The Deep Drowse.

Wow.

All right.

Here we go.

Arthur Hodges had very bad hay fever.

He and his wife Frances lived in a cheerful white painted wood house with a big stone chimney and a tastefully designed stone terrace out back.

That they lived in this house in the country was one of the factors that made the Hodges place in the history of this world secure for whatever stretch of time there is ahead for this universe.

Everything, of course, had to dovetail perfectly.

Have you ever thought about an accident?

For instance, a man who was hit on the head by a flower pot or a brick.

The man is, say, 40 years old, and yet the months and days and hours and seconds of those 40 years have to be perfectly synchronized to bring him to that spot on the sidewalk precisely at the time that the brick is unloosened by the wind and sent plummeting on its mission of death.

It's very P.T.

Anderson Magnolia set up.

So it was with the Hodges.

Then you see, Arthur Hodges was a writer.