" "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. But there was a face pressed to the glass. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald.
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