She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him. ‘Yes, but quite my own fault. ” He came and stood on the hearthrug close to her. “You must pack for me. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. ” The girl received this intimation in silence, but the face that looked down upon the gas fire took an expression of obstinacy that brought out a hitherto latent resemblance between parent and child.
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