‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. ‘You have not the right. " "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. Sheppard, distractedly. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love.
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