His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. 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. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. Wild has done his business. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. And what's more, I promise to abide by his decision.
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