. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. But, what is it! What did you promise?" "To offer you my heart, my hand, my life," replied Kneebone, falling at her feet. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady.
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