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. ” Michelle said, a cruel inflection lowering her voice. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Sheppard. I know of scandalous deeds which he has done. ” The man smiled at him. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful.
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