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. " Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. Maggot, that I'm engaged," said Kneebone, a little disconcerted.
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