" "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. I'll call for you after lunch. This I know for at the Valade estate it was talked of very much, even that they supposed me there to be the daughter of Suzanne. I was grounded for the last two weeks.
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