” Lucy reassured. 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. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return.
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