“I thought much of it amazingly beautiful. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. She has power over men’s fates in more ways than one. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. “I see the pointer,” she said. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. She could not say a word, much less move. "But, we'll soon see. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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