Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. . "True," replied Wild. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest.
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