You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. ” She was on the very verge of a vegetarian meal before she recovered her head again. 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. Its very calmness was frightful. “Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?. .
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