The name of his father's murderer is also known to me. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. ‘It is not possible. I was certain of it. Well, I've had to be. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage.
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