"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. It’s Providence.
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