But I do not love you. So I dare say I was christened Jack. "I've known him all my life," replied the other. You shall know the truth. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves.
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