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what’s your name again?” He asked. “I was frightened then,” she declared. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. By instinct. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him.
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