Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. 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 open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. She had tried to shift the subject of conversation away from herself and was even managing successfully until Chen the father addressed her. Her head ached with a hollow pain. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. This laugh and his looks alarmed her. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom.
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