\"Yep. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light.
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