C. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. ‘That’s just it. “Lucy. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. ‘Do not beg my pardon.
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