‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. She gloried in it: he needed her. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true. This time they would call it murder.
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