A sense of impending disaster was upon him. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. He was speechless. 270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. Refused admittance, they broke open the door. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr.
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