They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. “But you must forgive me, John. "In the name of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere, I implore you to answer me," urged Kneebone, "why—why would you not accept him?" "Because our positions are different," replied Winifred, who could not resist this appeal to her feelings. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger.
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