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. “Surely Lady Ennison would object, even if it were possible. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. She expanded that.
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