But tell me," he added with much anxiety, "has nothing been heard of Thames since the night of my former escape?" "Nothing whatever," answered Winifred. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Stanley determined to improve the occasion. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger.
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