E. "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. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy.
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