” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. ” She made some inane response. Her pulses began to race. But one day he came to me. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room.
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