For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. Of course Ruth was not aware that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. "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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