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He’s dead. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. "I'll fetch it. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Her mind had been and was full of the thought of Capes, a huge generalized Capes-lover. "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. 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.
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