"In the name of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere, I implore you to answer me," urged Kneebone, "why—why would you not accept him?" "Because our positions are different," replied Winifred, who could not resist this appeal to her feelings. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. No instrument I've ever used has done me such good service.
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