In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. Quite right. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. In this letter, which is addressed to my ill-fated mother, he speaks of his friendship for Sir Rowland, whom it seems he had known abroad; but entreats her to keep the marriage secret for a time, for reasons which are not fully developed.
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