"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. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. “Believe me, I know. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. She was weeping now. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow.
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