"So my father thought," replied Winifred; "and he therefore instantly fired upon him. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. "Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you?" Ben inquired. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish.
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