It was his heart. And she would have to go tomorrow. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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