"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. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. They did not speak until he had driven past town limits and were on the highway. Both the fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames. “My wife. ’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. “Good God!” he exclaimed. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent.
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