“Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. 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. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror.
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