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. He could lose himself for hours at a time. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Traci was the most grateful, because he stopped his sexual advances. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. "If there is any honour in you, stop and think.
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