It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. 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. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. They had cried a little, both.
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