″‘You’ll help me, won’t you?’ he cried, walking across to Ailsa on his knees. ‘You won’t see my thrown out to wander the streets with nothing but traffic signs and graffiti to read and nowhere to lay my head at night!‘”
“Would there be room in the boat for me to ride to shore with you?” she begged. “I know it’s silly, but there is America so close to me for the first time in my life – I can’t bear not to set my foot upon it!”
“What a child you are, Kit,” smiled Mrs. Eaton. “Sometimes ‘tis hard to believe you are sixteen.”