“I do,” Anna answered. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. 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 declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. I consented. And let us go on with our evening. At least here she was safe.
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