"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. She turned with an effort. Jack had been touched in the morning, but he was now completely prostrated. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. ‘Not in the open street. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not.
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