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. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. "Don't exchange glances with him under my very nose, woman!" shrieked Mrs. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney.
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