One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. 271 His parents suggested that he go into therapy. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction.
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