"Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer. "Is it poison?" she asked. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey.
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