She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. “I go to private school right now. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. "At all hazards then then you shall know the truth," replied the woollen-draper, in a tone of affected solicitude,—"but are you really prepared?" "Quite—quite!" replied Winifred. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester.
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