Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. There are so many things I want to tell you, and they stand on such different levels, that the effect is necessarily confusing and discordant, and I find myself doubting if I am really giving you the thread of emotion that should run through all this letter.
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