It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Playing became a way of escape. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. She was trembling a little. You don’t know. Stop it!” Anna stepped back bewildered, but the man held out his arms to her. "Oh! never mind him: he'll take no harm! Come with me into the parlour. It’s horrible to think of you!” “You’re an awful brick, Teddy!” she said. —Well, then, my dear," he added aloud, "do you still entertain the strong attachment you did to Captain Darrell?" Winifred's cheeks glowed with blushes, and fixing her eyes, which flashed with resentment, upon the questioner, she said: "I have promised to answer your question, and I will do so.
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