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 thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. She needed to protect the baby. There was, it might be said, a double illumination.
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