" "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. ' Will that do?" "It will," replied Trenchard. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. She began to feel odd sensations while peering busily at his shoulder and profile. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. She could not part with dignity. ” “Then I am sure,” Sir John declared, “that I shall not ask you. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices.
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