Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, by the by. Now what? There was an interest, or why ask him who they were. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. You never saw him before yesterday. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress.
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