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. But while there's life there's hope. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia.
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