"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. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them. I have now settled my affairs, and made every preparation for my departure to France, where I shall spend the remainder of my days. Plays Beethoven, Rubenstein and all those chaps.
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