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Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. 1. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. “I saw you go into that place, and I have been waiting for you ever since. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant.
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