" "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. “I remember it very well indeed. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. ” She shook her head. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol.
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