Without an idea where he was going, Jack pursued his way through the fields; and, as he proceeded, the numbness of his limbs in some degree wore off, and his confidence returned. “She has improved her style,” someone declared. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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