What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. I thought you understood. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. "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. “I shall send for a policeman,” Anna said, “directly my maid answers the bell— unless you choose to go before.
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