She went to her own table and sat down. 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. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. It is bad policy.
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