If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. "No matter. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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