Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. She fidgeted and looked away. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. A small voice greeted her, hissing. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. "We won't have any trouble understanding each other; same language.
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