In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. Await me in the coach. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect.
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