“You do not quite understand,” she said gently. "I've a good mind not to speak to you again, Sir!" cried Winifred, with difficulty repressing a tear of vexation; "you've acted unfairly. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. "No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd.
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