Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. It was for ever. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table.
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