The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Meanwhile, Mr. “I want to find an address. ” Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison’s shoulder. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. We already had a place to mislay blame. 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.
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