Meanwhile, she was spirited away from John and bombarded by half-familiar people who attempted to chat with her above the roar of the crowd. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. “There is my aunt,” she said. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. I got myself locked up to cool off. Loneliness. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention.
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