In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. “Where?” “To that ball. Charcoal, you may bring in the boy. ” “How?” “It prevents our marrying. “Not a bit. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper.
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