Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. Tears sprang to her eyes.
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