"No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. "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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