"Most persons would have guessed my meaning. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. He drew an awed breath. The policemen were closing in from the sides to intervene. “I detest amateurs. S. She laughed a little contemptuously.
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