You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t care for me. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. The boy was coming around. "So it is," the doctor agreed. And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway.
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