"Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. I did so. He cupped her small hands in the bowl of his large ones and reassured her in the kindest manner, saying, “You will have the finest life that Florence has to offer. I can accommodate you below. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. We married, and for a time we were happy. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. You think you will.
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