‘Parbleu, you waste time. ‘Do that again,’ he said softly, ‘and I’ll make you sorry you ever came to England. But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. He has got five minutes' start of you. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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