human
I sometimes think I should like to try, said Gilead Beck.
gpt
Poor men have no friends; they have mates on our side of the water, and pals on yours.
human
Mates and pals? cried Phillis, laughing.
gpt
Jack, do you know mates and pals?
human
I ought to, said Jack,
gpt
Friends come to rich folk naturally, like the fruit to the tree, or--or--the flower to the rose,
human
Or the mud to the wheel,
gpt
Suppose all my dollars were suddenly to vamose--I mean, to vanish away, Gilead Beck went on solemnly;
human
Jack would not, said Phillis promptly,