“I wish. Good riddance. “We don’t pretend. “I love your sister. 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. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated.
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