"And so shall I," replied Edgeworth Bess. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. " The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. "Leave me, Sir; I insist.
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