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He certainly bore inspection. 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. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. We have to hang about in the interval.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 08-06-2024 23:43:55
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