" "Pray cease this nonsense," said Winifred, "and quit the room, or I will call for assistance. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. . She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. And in this fact lay his danger. He knew she had been weeping. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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