He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. 'Sdeath! what can I have done with it? Oh! here it is," cried Hogarth, picking it from the ground.
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