She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. "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. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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