Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth.
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