Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Your purpose is done. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. But Jack eluded their grasp.
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