But she must not laugh. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised.
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