"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. She placed her kills near the Senewac City jail that summer, burying the remains in the forest preserves outlying Greene County. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. I cannot answer that question. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. She wanted to think.
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