When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. ’ ‘Certainly that is true. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. ” “It is very hard to explain,” he answered. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. I got myself locked up to cool off.
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