A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. "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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