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’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. Whoever this might be, the visit seemed to have some reference to the carpenter, for, shortly afterwards, Sharples made his appearance, and informed the captives they were free. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. ‘Certainly no one will find it. 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 only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. She remembered Taber's hat. “Just look that through, will you. He was consumed with desire. .
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