The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. She was nearly dead. Were Captain Darrell to offer you his hand, would you accept it?" "Your impertinence deserves very different treatment, Sir," said Winifred; "but, to put an end to this annoyance, I will tell you—I would not.
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