“You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. For a long time neither spoke again. It was situated off a little hallway that led also to the kitchens and the back door to the outside. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. A crisis of some kind was toward.
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