” Lucy said, thinking of the Becks who worked around the clock just to keep a tiny house in the same neighborhood. Let her see what she could make here. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. 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. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. CHAPTER XXXI.
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