Mr. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. There was a deep groan, and the sound of a fall within. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him.
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