But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year.
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