The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. I’ve had a headache all day. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. He turned.
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