If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. ’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. They were silent for a time.
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