’ She stopped, her lips tightening. She paused for a moment. When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. on. He bowed awkwardly to Mrs.
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