I'll have no such toast drunk at my
table!"
"It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. 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. I don’t believe in the faults. laws alone swamp our small staff. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. Gerald swore. Wood was unable to
discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and
was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be
the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty
substance, had fallen upon the floor. He was yellow and coarse of
hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail,
he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of
the fitness of things. May I do so to-day?”
“It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. I had a hunch.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 22:34:07