But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. “What can you do?” she asked. . Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. “Please have a seat. ” “I don’t mind knowing,” said Ann Veronica. 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. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room.
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