“For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. Then you won't tell me where he's going?" "I will tell you six months from now. 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.
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