If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. An electric light flashed out from the wall. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. Not if I read her aright.
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