'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head. . But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. Nevertheless Sydney, clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it.
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