"In my opinion," remarked Kneebone, "it doesn't matter how soon society is rid of two such scoundrels; and if Blueskin dies by the rope, and Jonathan by the hand of violence, they'll meet the fate they merit. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. There’s no logic in these things. Rousing himself, he went to the door. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights.
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