“Heavens!” she exclaimed. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. "Souls," she answered, drily. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. ’ ‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. Manning might go on now idealizing her as much as he liked. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. You never can tell.
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