Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. 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. Now, do what you please. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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