‘Present?’ cried Mercedes, taking it with a sparkling eye, nimbly undoing the silk, tissue-paper, jeweller’s cotton, and finding a pretty little diamond cross with a chain. She shrieked, kissed him, darted to the looking-glass, shrieked some more – eek, eek! – and came back with the stone flashing low on her neck. She pulled herself in below and puffed herself out above, like a pouter-pigeon, and lowered her bosom, the diamonds winking in the hollow, down towards him, saying, ‘You like him? You like him? You like him?’ Jack’s eyes grew less brotherly, oh far less brotherly, his glottis
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