Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. “Thought so. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble.
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