"The cure for him would be to take a good long look at some potato plants, which have lately had such a deep and distinctive colour and tone, instead of driving himself mad looking at pieces of yellow satin and gold leather."

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William," the professor said, softly, "what now is your weapon?"...."Truth," he whispered, his voice rasping. He cleared his throat. "Truth is my sword." ...."And what now is your defense?" Colour returned to Billy's face, and his jaw tightened. His voice surged with emotion. "Faith...faith is my shield.

— Bryan Davis