How long have you been playing?” Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. ‘Certainly you may have me under guard. ” “But what have I done?” “Elope! Go off in this way. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. 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.
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