Sheppard. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. " "Good enough for me. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means.
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