\" Larry got up from his chair and trudged to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of milk from the never-ending supply of two percent. " That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. " "Possibly not," replied Thames, in some confusion; "but I am not at liberty to speak. You understand me, I’m sure. “You poor little girl!” he cried.
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