82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness.
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