“So should you. "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. "Souls," she answered, drily. ‘Merely making a useful contact. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded room. Possessed, at one time, of a share in the South Sea stock, he conceived himself worth twenty thousand pounds. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had.
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