Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard.
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