Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. “After all,” he said, “I am not sure that you are not a very material person. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. . Wood from pressing his suit long ago. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. She smiled. He looked melancholy enough, it is true.
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