‘It must seem strange to you at first. The heavy weapon thundered against the door; and it speedily yielded to their efforts. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. How I could have been such a fool I’ll never know. Cathy chimed. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. I only seen her when she come with that Sister Martha.
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