"He does," replied Kneebone, "and, what is more surprising, it seems to increase. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. Luckily, Mrs. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. His fingers closed upon her hand. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point.
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