" "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. " "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," observed the carpenter's wife, with a sneer. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. ” Michelle fired back merrily.
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