The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. \" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. His face clouded with anger. ” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. " To-morrow! She never beheld it. Get me an interview with her. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. " "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me.
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