‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. ‘That is not your affair. But Blueskin found it impossible to make off,—at least with the spoil,—Mrs. Mother had met with him two years before to begin the process of finding a match. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon.
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