He turned, and beheld Winifred. . The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. Amiable and good-looking. She elected to go to prison. We're to be given a treat to-night. CHAPTER VII.
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