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CHAPTER LXX







          Our deeds still travel with us from afar,
          And what we have been makes us what we are.’

          ulstrode’s first object after Lydgate had left Stone Court
       Bwas  to  examine  Raffles’s  pockets,  which  he  imagined
       were sure to carry signs in the shape of hotel-bills of the plac-
       es he had stopped in, if he had not told the truth in saying
       that he had come straight from Liverpool because he was ill
       and had no money. There were various bills crammed into
       his pocketbook, but none of a later date than Christmas at
       any other place, except one, which bore date that morning.
       This was crumpled up with a hand-bill about a horse-fair
       in one of his tail-pockets, and represented the cost of three
       days’ stay at an inn at Bilkley, where the fair was held— a
       town at least forty miles from Middlemarch. The bill was
       heavy, and since Raffles had no luggage with him, it seemed
       probable that he had left his portmanteau behind in pay-
       ment, in order to save money for his travelling fare; for his
       purse was empty, and he had only a couple of sixpences and
       some loose pence in his pockets.
          Bulstrode  gathered  a  sense  of  safety  from  these  in-
       dications  that  Raffles  had  really  kept  at  a  distance  from
       Middlemarch since his memorable visit at Christmas. At a

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