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. They had not to tarry long. He’s the handle of life for you. An old woman took her in. His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four. Supper was over. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief.
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