She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. ’ A tiny giggle escaped her, and she lowered the pistol a trifle. " "Man, she's your wife!" "And I am a thief. 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. ” “I didn’t mind that little argument. With Baptist Kettleby, to engage in a matter is to go through with it.
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