It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. 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. To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment, was out of the question. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. The captain saw it too and nodded at the boy. ’ She shook her head.
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