I don’t conceal it. 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. “Steady on!” he cried. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. " "It is, indeed," replied Mrs. " "Dear mother, don't say so," returned Winifred. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. “How fortunate I am, Miss Pellissier! All day I have been hoping that I might run across you.
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