The marriage cannot—shall not be delayed. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled.
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