" "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. Wood.
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