She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. Very gently indeed, Alderley grasped the handle of the door and stealthily turned it. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. Smith's melody had subsided. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust.
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