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. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. Sheppard.
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