“I’ve tried to make words tell it. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories. 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. Vite, I pray you. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted.
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