275 “Yes!” She answered, feeling joy and fear well in her chest. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. Of you—an angel with one wing. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. Rich folks, once. “You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it.
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