"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 suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness.
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