She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. ” “Perhaps you remember me, Miss Pellissier,” the second young man interposed. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning.
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