The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward.
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