"Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. "I'm armed; you are not. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden.
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