IX. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. Who invented them? Nobody knows. “When did you start?” She said between puffs. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. Kent say to it?" "He thinks so highly of it, that he says if he had a daughter he would give her to the artist," answered Gay, a little maliciously. Of course there are, millions of them. “In a sort of beautiful garden-close—wearing lovely dresses and picking beautiful flowers?” “Ah! If one could!” “While those other girls trudge to business and those other women let lodgings.
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