" "I'm a queer girl," she replied with a smile. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. Wood heard the cry.
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