“And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe.
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