"Come along, my sly shaver. I would have married her long ago, but she will not have me. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. “I should like you to come here,” she said. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips.
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