Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. ” “Relaxation, perhaps. Death belongs to God, young man. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. Miss Ellicot, for instance, considers me a most improper person.
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