Entering the outer gate, and traversing the broad gravel walk before-mentioned, Jack ascended the steps, and was admitted, on feeing the porter, by another iron gate, into the hospital. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. ‘All right, Trodger. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage.
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