The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. See paragraph 1. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. Wily little devil she is. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement.
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