" 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. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. Seeing Jack at liberty, he instantly seized him, and a struggle commenced. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones. But those days are over—quite over. He’s riding down the drive.
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