I had no idea. She immediately took the pillows from under the head of the man who had two names, released the collar and tie, and arranged the arms alongside the body. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. “But—your people!” she gasped. "Take this key to Baptist Kettleby.
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