He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. Both of them. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. " "I feel bewildered," said Ruth. "What are you doing with him?" "It's a long story, Captain, and I've no breath to tell it,—unless you choose to release me," rejoined Quilt. .
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