“You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. " "No more of this," said Winifred, angrily. “Thought so. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment.
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