"What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Very romantic and all that. Probably hadn't. "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.
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