" "Are you a nurse?" "Yes. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. "You'll find him at St. I don’t mind it. I spent this afternoon in detention. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed.
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