‘Parbleu, do you think he will run away? He has a bullet inside him, and it must be taken out. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. They are their mother’s sons.
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