" "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. She said as much to him. He's passed through some rough mental torture. 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.
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