” His eyes were burning. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. He held her eyes. . Light the lantern. 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. “Very well,” said Manning. Love is one thing and friendship quite another.
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