Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. She explained she was expecting an important interview, and asked that her visitor should be duly shown in. For the present the desire to fly was gone.
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