"I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right.
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