"Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. ’ ‘Listen. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. Tender with the sick, firm with the strong, fearless, with a body that had the resistance of iron, there was nothing of the hypocrite in him. He roused curiosities. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. "I will," answered the prisoner.
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