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I am really in earnest. 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. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. She crooked her finger. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. She despises me, I suppose.

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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 07:32:02