"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. I don’t feel it. ” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. “You must send for the police at once, you know. He smiled inwardly.
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