Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. “What do you mean?” she asked. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. This laugh and his looks alarmed her. Ruth came to him directly. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. A live man.
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