“This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. Certain reserves went down on both sides. You do not believe his statement?" "I do not," replied Winifred. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne.
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