" "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. Sheppard. He called Enschede the Bellower. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. “Perhaps you will not object to answering one for me. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone.
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