This is a tale of two young fools. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. You observe that I am, as usual, fairly cheerful, and moderately amiable. " "Where?" "At Yale. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling.
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