"Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile.
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