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. “If you say so, Lucy. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. E. She gurgled. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. He resumed his listening.
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