You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. “Good God!” he exclaimed. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically.
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