John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife. " McClintock saw indeed—two things: that the boy had no conceit and that this odd girl would always be giving. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. “I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said.
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