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. Her heart thudded. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. " Spurlock closed his eyes. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. I don’t care WHAT happens.
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