A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink.
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