" "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. Our ideal had fallen. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared.
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