At least here she was safe. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. 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.
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