"In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. She moaned as he buried himself completely to the hilt. ” She turned herself to one side and propped her head in her hand. But that was all over. She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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