A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. She waited expectantly. Treat me as an elder brother, if you like. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. You’re of age— you’re of age. She repeated this breathlessly. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. The period of repression was over. John said nothing. 7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder.
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