She shuddered as his naked body pressed against her. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. “What are you doing?” He cried. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard.
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