“His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. She could feel her face turning beet red. ” Capes watched the limpid water dripping from his oar. 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. “Oh. We came on here at once. ” She laughed gaily.
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