The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. "Sir Cecil is no more. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. If so, do not hesitate to tell me.
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