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. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. ” And to that, through vast rhetorical meanderings, she clung. ” He looked at her gravely. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. “Sheila and Mark McCloskey?” Michelle asked.
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