The major hailed him with a show of relief. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion.
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