" "Mr. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. "I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied Abraham. You’re a good friend. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. 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. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement.
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