\"But you are so beautiful. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. 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. “It’s very good,” she said. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver.
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