I don’t know. "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. “But for you Dad would never have let me marry Lescelles. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. It was at lunch when McClintock announced that in the mailpouch he had found a letter addressed to Howard Taber, care of Donald McClintock and so-forth. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. ” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. I’ll announce myself. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. Horrible!" "Poor soul! her senses are going again," said Mr.
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