’ He nodded in the direction of her pistol. ‘No mistaking you this time. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. 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. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand.
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