He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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