He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go in pursuit; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn,—which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells,—where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed.
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