"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. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. Or had you not noticed?’ He sneered.
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