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. ‘After all the threats you’ve made, that is hardly fair. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow. He disappeared after getting my foster sister Traci pregnant. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. I think not.
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