” He fumed. ” She glanced at him, and it was suddenly apparent for one instant of illumination that this ring upon her finger was the crowning blunder of her life. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. Suddenly she had become afraid. Wood the best of wives.
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