"What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. I never saw a man who wasn't. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. Compared with her father and Mr. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children.
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