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. She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. It’s no good. It is very important because I have lost my proof. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. ” “I am going to pack my bag,” Anna answered. Sheppard. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned.
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