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. “Lucy, this isn’t funny anymore. . It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. “Your father is in the study and wishes to speak to you. "You must have travelled a good deal to know so much about men. "I'd lay down my life for yours. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. That is not reasonable.
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