Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. ‘What is it?’ asked Roding. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. “Let me help you,” he begged. I haven’t, anyhow. The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood.
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