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"Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. "That I can't say. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Meanwhile, the excitement of the chase had in some degree subsided. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. But it was very hard to follow. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition.
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