She made herself a private declaration of liberty. ‘Idiot. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image.
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