Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. "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. I almost wish we hadn't come. He then unlocked a cabinet, opened a secret drawer, and, lifter ransacking its contents, discovered a paper he was in search of, and a glove. He returned the locket without comment. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. "I could not believe you capable of so foul a deed. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within.
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