Time after time he sent Spurlock into this corner or that; but always the boy regained his feet before the murderous boot could reach the mark. 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. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued.
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