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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. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning. Never was there another girl like this one. " "Ah, yes; that coat.
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