Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. She had agonized over it for weeks. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. .
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