“I doubted my luck, at least. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. He could not doubt it. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. Kneebone and Winifred. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case.
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