Ah, no, I have it wrong. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. Mild, you know, and boon. He roused curiosities. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. He turned, and beheld Winifred. She leaned forward and addressed him.
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