" "Oh, dear! how I should like to see him. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. At this point a carriage with servants in sumptuous liveries was stationed.
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