She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. She struggled not to be afraid. His face fell. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom.
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