"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. She knew she was a monster and so did they. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “You must send for the police at once, you know. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate.
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