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. “Odd thing,” Meddoes remarked, “we were just talking about the Pellissier girl. But the cases were not identical. But after all, Mrs. Not only that, but he carried himself erect— the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders had altogether disappeared. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all.
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