‘But that will do for a start. In the middle there was a gate. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. Afterwards we started for a motor ride to a place outside Paris for déjeuner, and I suppose the man’s nerve failed him. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed.
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