Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. She cried and sobbed in fits. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. He looked the boy over with interest. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack.
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