“And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. I might utter a million, and still I doubt if I could make you understand. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. . " "Pray cease these compliments," returned Winifred, "and, if you have any communication to make, do not delay it. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks.
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