He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. 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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