"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. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. ” “Coffee! Bah!” The newcomer picked her way across the floor with daintily uplifted skirts, and subsided into a deck chair of stretched canvas. Wood in their favour. He just walked in a few minutes ago. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me.
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