"Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. He remained listening attentively. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. ’ To be sure there was a way. I'm a poor nurse. For a while he threatened her. " "Poor Jack!" exclaimed Thames.
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