“I was lonely. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. "But, if I should not return, take this purse to Edgeworth Bess. ” “Not for you?” “No.
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