"So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. I can’t help you a cent. Nothing. It was an impulse. . ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose.
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