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, now I'll tell you what they do. I couldn’t help the thought. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. Her voice was weak and flat. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. ’ ‘It could hardly be less so,’ said Mrs Sindlesham tartly. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. An unwelcome idea came to him.
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