A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. Here goes. " "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously. "Oh! that I could live to see it," gasped Jonathan. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips.
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