"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. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you.
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