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. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. “It’s the spring,” he said.
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