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. It’s my choice, Lucy. " And he strode out of the place. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. ” “I feel—All this is the rightest of all conceivable things. " And, with this generous resolve, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Arrest! arrest! help! help!" seconding the words with a shrill and peculiar cry, well known at the time to the inhabitants of the quarter in which it was uttered. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write.
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