"Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. 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. ‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your cavalier here would not wish to be arrested. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name.
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