” John peered at her as she went to him. Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. '—'They can't,' says I. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. 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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