It was bleeding again. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver.
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