“Hainault, Celeste’s friend. Having only seen him in the gloom of a dungeon, and loaded with fetters, Kneebone had not noticed this alteration: but he was now greatly struck by it. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck.
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