Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. "But don't ever let me see them again. Kneebone, on his return from Manchester. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. "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. Thames Darrell.
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