Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. “I am already so hungry that I shall begin on the petit pains. ” Sir John looked at her sideways. "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. "Well, he won't do that here. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night.
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