The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Hers were less noble, yet stately. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. ‘Poor things. " "Do you think so?" replied Kneebone, taking it off, and placing it on her finger, which he took the opportunity of kissing at the same time; "wear it for my sake.
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