"Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. " "No more of this," said Winifred, angrily. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. But she could see that Diane watched her more closely now, and in a cat-like way.
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