I demand it as a right. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step.
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