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. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. "Yes. Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it.
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