But Jack and his companion were already gone. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ” She laughed gaily. " She opened the book which she had brought to the table. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter.
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