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In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. “I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. But she could see that Diane watched her more closely now, and in a cat-like way. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free.
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