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She glanced into his face. I took the usual way home. You do not believe his statement?" "I do not," replied Winifred. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Almost light-heartedly.
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