"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. "Will you take a guinea for it?" "Double that sum might tempt me," replied the Jew; "it's a nobleman's coat, upon my shoul!" "Here's the money," replied Jack, taking the coat. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. I have always hated it. "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'm ready to bear it all.
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