Taber's room at once," Ruth ordered. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. White said. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. "With all my heart!" replied Wood. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind.
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