He drew her away from this thought. " 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. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. "Then we're imprisoned. .
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