"Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. Neither he nor Gerald chose to attire themselves in full military rig on fashionable occasions such as this. Treat me as an elder brother, if you like. davidevansbailey.
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