“Fine. The thing is to get the patient on his feet. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. " Her utterance was here choked by sobs. \"My parents. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold.
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