He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. If only you knew what this means to me!" "We do, lad," replied McClintock, gravely. Few men could have done as much. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands.
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