"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. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. Easily I could have killed you. “You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated.
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