"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. Kneebone. Hope you ate light before you got here. Besides, she will do no such thing. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep.
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