The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. Wants me to look out for you a bit. ’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade. Thames did not try to cheer her. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly.
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