My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. "Who took it thence?" "Thames Darrell; the boy at your side. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things.
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