"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. Balked, Melusine halted. 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. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. “Homely?” “Well, yeah, that’s what he said.
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