He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. " "Are you sure of that?" returned Winifred, looking uneasily at Jack. "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. And yet, dang it! I've seen 'em just as innocent looking that were prime vipers. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had.
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