Wood. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. Presently they came to a wall, on the other side of which the dog began to bark violently; but Blueskin tossed him a piece of prepared meat, and uttering a low growl, he became silent.
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