"This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. The occasion of all this confusion and dismay, meanwhile, remained perfectly motionless; his figure erect, and with somewhat of dignity in his demeanour. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. “Dear John,” she whispered.
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