" Upon which, with an assurance that he would not do so, the attendant departed. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. ‘For my money, you’ll not get much out of old Jarvis either. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her.
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