” She whispered. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. " "Are they good?" "He can write; but he hasn't found anything real to write about. I don’t feel it.
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