“I’ll ruin your suit. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica.
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