"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. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. “Martin, you realize that I’m dating someone, don’t you?” She knew his reply before he uttered it. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand.
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