You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. She wanted him so badly it hurt. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. "Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation. “Jacques is wounded and we are arrested by this imbecile of a sergeant. 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. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it.
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