She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. 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. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. ” “I met you accidentally,” he reminded her. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity.
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