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. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. . ’ ‘But Gérard knows. The doctor expected her to seize upon the subtle inference that there was something furtive, even criminal, in the manner the patient set this obligation upon humanity at large, to look after him in the event of his death. ” She eyed him scornfully.
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