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. "Only sprained it a little, that's all," answered Thames; "the pain will go off presently. I would be too 222 busy protecting you. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. ‘I thank you. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. " "A boy from his shop was here a short time ago.
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