Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. He was—a millionaire. I am guilty practically of the impertinence of coming to ask you whether I misunderstood your sister. . About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend.
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