"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. ” “It is very nice of you to think of it,” Anna said briskly. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. She's headed for America.
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