Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts. ‘Oh! little Vee!’ he cried, ‘little Vee!’ and put his face between his hands and sat still for a long time before he broke out again. ” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes.
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