You do not believe me. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress.
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