Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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