"Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. "We've no time for any Bedlam scenes now. 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 wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence.
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