Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. She stabbed him with her canines. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. pgdp.
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