He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. His hand flew across the paper. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. There were all varieties of bird-life known in these latitudes, from the bird of paradise down to the tiny scarlet-beaked love-birds.
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