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. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. A nod was exchanged. Prison was beastly. “Now, Veronica,” he pleaded, “Veronica, this is most unreasonable.
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