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She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; and, at its conclusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. I know that you are all my friends, and I know that you all have very good advice to give me. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. 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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