" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. They rose as she approached. " Winifred looked as if she could not indulge such a supposition for a single moment. “I do hope you will see how things are, and not be offended with me or frightfully shocked and distressed by what I have done. Maybe later. There was no response. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. " Abraham grinned, and silently followed his master, who, as soon as they reached the audience-chamber, poured out a bumper of spirits, and presented it to him. Vorsack looked pale and pink. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger.
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