‘Ah, Madame Joan. Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. First, look at this glove. 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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