"Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. ‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. One night she apparently fell asleep. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. ‘One thing at a time, missie.
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