Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. “It is just a look. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin.
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