" "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. "If I could work as fast as you, I might afford to be as idle. ” She admonished. I'll stamp twice when we've done.
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