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. " "How had he offended you?" inquired the widow. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. "I am coming to the point, Joan. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. He began to tell me something—and stopped. “Thank you.
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