Twilight For A Baron
May, 1973
Major Tams is sitting in his favorite cushioned chair in the parlor of his cottage. He looks up at the portraits on the wall, portraits of his ancestors by Anna Peale and Gilbert Stuart, and he sighs. ''I'm like John Randolph of Roanoke. John Randolph said in his old age there wasn't a drop of his blood in the veins of any living creature. No, I'm the last of my gang. No great loss.'' His small eyes brighten and his mouth purses into a semblance of a smile. ''No use pulling up now no use pulling...
