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Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. " "'No doubt,'" said Wood, who had again turned over the leaves of the sacred volume—', "no doubt this man is a murderer, whom, though he escaped the seas, yet vengeance suffereth not to live'. “Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. Kneebone is coming, my dear," ventured Mr.
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