Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. He looked the boy over with interest. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. " "Hold!" interposed Winifred, gravely. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. "I am your most unhappy son.
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