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. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées. I might as well be at Morningside Park. Blueskin will take care of the horses, and I'll go with you.
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