“Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ‘I live in Kent.
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