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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. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. ” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. Sc. ” “It isn’t nice going to prison. It shall be your wedding ring. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said.
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