Then he took the pulse. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. It was not possible. Now how in the world was he to get rid of the husband? His luck was in. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention.
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