” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. You may go back, Marthe. . Stop it!” Anna stepped back bewildered, but the man held out his arms to her.
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