" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. Well, one must hope, that was all. His frowning gaze came back to her. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable.
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