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 tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. Confidence in himself would strengthen him. ’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed deeply. ‘She has constituted herself leader of the émigrés here, and feels justifiably slighted by having taken the pretend Valades under her wing. . None this end.
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