Interesting to think of--eh? ...Had lots of time to think.... Thought
of most everything that ever happened; and more that didn't."
"You are a stranger in Brookville, sir?" observed Wesley Elliot,
politely.
He had already decided that the man was neither a _colporteur_ nor a
clerical mendicant; his clothes were too good, for one thing.
The man laughed, a short, unpleasant sound which ended in a fit of
coughing.
"A stranger in Brookville?" he echoed. "Well; not precisely.... But
never mind that, young man. Now, you're a clergyman, and on that
account supposed to have more than ordinary good judgment: what would
you advise a man to do, who had--er--been out of active life for a
number of years. In a hospital, we'll say, incapacitated, very much
so. When he comes out, he finds himself quite pleasantly situated, in
a way; good home, and all that sort of thing; but not allowed to--to
use his judgment in any way. Watched--yes, watched, by a person who
ought to know better. It's intolerable--intolerable! Why, you'll not
believe me when I tell you I'm obliged to sneak out of my own house
on the sly--on the sly, you understand, for the purpose of taking
needful exercise."
He stopped short and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, the
fineness of which the minister noted mechanically--with other details
which had before escaped him; such as the extreme, yellowish pallor
of the man's face and hands and the extraordinary swiftness and
brightness of his eyes.
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