She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. "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. It was after all a momentary affair. "The gen'l'man'll be here directly. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman.
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