The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. " The little urchin set off, and presently returned with the sexton. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. 55 <7> THE MANOR, 1349 They moved to the country manor in the autumn of 1349, when plague was still raging through the city. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. You will find proofs of the bloody deed in his room.
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