Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made.
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