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Threw it out. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. He stood before her. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "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.
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