She could feel her face turning beet red. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. Jonathan mixed with the group, and, sure of his prey, abided his time. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. Perhaps because I don’t know. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world.
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