“I see the difficulty. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. Never in this world! Let the hotel people take care of him; it's their affair. 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. He knew what he knew. Nice, of course. Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. She felt much better.
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