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. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. She would never again be lonely. " His demeanour was polished; his manners singularly affable and gentle; and he was remarkable, for the generosity of his temper. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. ” “And you knew, of course, that we were old friends?” “Indeed!” “Lady Ferringhall, I love your sister. " That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. ” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. Surely she could ignore him.
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