She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs.
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