He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. 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. She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. She could not help thinking of Capes.
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