He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. m. .
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