"Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this.
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