Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable. 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. Managers and accountants are always shifting about, so he tells me. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing. ‘I knew it. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds.
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