Here's a nosegay for you, my love," she continued, opening her basket, and presenting a fragrant bunch of flowers to Winifred, "if your mother will allow me to give it you. I'm heading for bed. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. "What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin.
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