” She laughed softly. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. 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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