"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. 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. I was visiting the royal family, as they sought me for a tutor for their sons over the summer. He could not kiss Ruth. ’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh.
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