His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. “We have to get in, I think,” said a nice little old lady in a bonnet to Ann Veronica, speaking with a voice that quavered a little. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. " "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own.
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