He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. ‘You’d do the same. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now. Then it was the woman herself who was changed. Her hair was washed for her also. Then they had released her arms and were trying to push her away. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other.
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