"Let me go," cried Winifred. The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. I shall quit it and go abroad. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer.
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