" "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. ” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. She was for ever scanning luggage and finding her way about the world, via these miniature pictures. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. " "De gentleman may rely on my showing his relation all de attention in my power," replied Van Galgebrok, bowing profoundly to the knight; "but if any unforseen accident—such as a slip overboard—should befal de jonker on de voyage, he mushn't lay de fault entirely on my shoulders—haw! haw!" "Where is he?" asked Sir Rowland, glancing uneasily around.
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