” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder. With this person—who was no other than Mr. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. In others, she acts with the speed and surety of the loosed arrow.
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