"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. I want you to be clear what you’re really and truly up to, anyhow. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment. The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. " "I will, when I've had my revenge," muttered Jack.
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