"Let me go," cried Winifred. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it.
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