" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. ‘Difficult, I grant you. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. " "Mr. I'll call it my wedding gift.
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