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” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. “Let me get you some water, Annabel.
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