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"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. I'll call it my wedding gift. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. "Yes. They were just nice. Things happen to women—proper women—and all they have to do is to take them well. 1.
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