“I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. A woman cannot change her soul. " 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. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood.
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