"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. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. ‘But I will tell you this, mon vieux. Only you won’t let me exist!” Mr. But the world didn’t do that. "Did you write it?" "No.
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