He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. You seemed complete—without that. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only.
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