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. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. ’ ‘A life of ease?’ repeated Melusine. “Limp,” he answered. He understood. "I generally take a party. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years.
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