. \" \"Oh, come on!\" Shari exclaimed, putting her cocoa down and burying her face in a fat white pillow. ” She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. Of course there were goats. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer.
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