We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Will you not remember what has passed between us? I have the right to take my place by your side. 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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