The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. “Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone. Cast off this weakness. Her voice recalled him. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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