—What do you know of Thames?— Where is he?" "Don't agitate yourself, dearest girl," rejoined the woollen-draper; "or I shall never be able to commence my relation. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. 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. " "Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead.
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