Then the inner door opened abruptly. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. Roddy muffed two. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. 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. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss.
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