Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. . The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Mr. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. .
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