"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. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older.
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