“I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at 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.
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