In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing.
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