After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. 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. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat.
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