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. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. I'll try to think better of him in future. "I haven't a word to say, Ah Cum, not a word. At last—I told a story. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss.
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