Maybe half a year, counting this summer. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. 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. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request.
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