Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “No, John, you won’t understand. ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. In regard to yourself, you've had a very narrow escape. She had but to choose. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke.
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