"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. He stood back and held her shoulders. It disgusts me that you should touch me. “Ask me nothing. It has been purchased by blood!" "What! have you cut old Wood's throat?" asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance.
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