Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. Finally Lucy replied. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. ‘Kill him? Oh. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood.
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