"Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. The low ceiling made him seem abnormally tall. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. "Is there anything wrong with it?" "Wrong? Why, you have been imposed upon somewhere. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. Annabel, I cannot believe it. Montressor’s guests were.
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