It was enough. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. One OUGHT to want to please her.
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