who retailed a store of faded learning in the Tredgold laboratory. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. “I’m not sure whether we don’t rather overdo all this higher education,” he said, with an effect of conveying profound meanings. 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. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel.
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