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. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet.
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