" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. It was only when they came into a square that daylight had a positive quality. It was better even than the hymn-singing. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. I didn’t understand.
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