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. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. . He had been abusing them for a long time when I arrived. And then I came here. ” “You and your father?” Lucy asked. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction.
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