After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. “Come on. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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