There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. Kneebone begged him to take the prisoner into the churchyard. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. His literary instincts began to stir. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper.
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