I want to give myself to you. What’s that?” They both stood listening. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. 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.
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