She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. " So saying, he scrambled over the rubbish, and got into the chimney. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness.
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