She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. “We played at love-making in Paris.
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