"Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. His heart hammered in his chest. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. ’ He sighed. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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