"My stars! here's a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a fuss about—ho! ho!" "Deal with me as you think proper, gentlemen," exclaimed Wood; "but, for mercy's sake don't harm the child! Let it be taken to its mother. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. I’m glad I did.
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