"I believe he is conscious," she answered. One would think I had agreed to her going. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty. I don’t know if I express myself clearly. “Mr. Wood required little pressing. 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 thought you were asleep. I am a man—of a sort of experience.
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