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Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. ” “For what?” Lucy asked. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. Never did I need a rescue so much. She was nestled under his bedspread. . He chuckled. I hate this part of the world.
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