With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. Winifred instantly picked it up. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. Well, kill me. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. I don’t love you. He listened. "No," replied Jack. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. And do you, Jack, attend to your work, and mind you don't get into further mischief. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. It was painful to want him so much. It's certain.
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