” “I will think of it,” she promised. It was neither good nor bad. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. "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. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. They were going up the slope into Waterloo Station. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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