The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. It was clear that he meant to kiss her before she exited the car. 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. "At a thought. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. Here he was hotly pursued. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. ” Anna was bewildered.
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