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. ’ She had given nothing away. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp.
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